Broken Links
by Alone in the Desert
Summary: Manar thinks his brother has his head in the clouds, but Niko is determined to run away from home. Standalone


Broken Links 

Disclaimer: The world of Emelan and the character of Niklaren Goldeye are the property of Tamora Pierce. This story and the character of Manar Vaksi are my own. Written for Seanfhocal Circle Challenge 10. 

Niko was packing. Manar was watching. Niko did not know. The chink in the wall of the room they shared served well enough to hide Manar's intentions. The last thing he needed right now was for Niko to _know_. 

The feeling seemed to be mutual, as Manar wouldn't have known anything about Niko's leaving if he hadn't overheard. It's not like he came and _told_ me, he thought, rationalizing his spying. He continued to watch as clothing flew from the old, beaten oak chest into travel-stained saddlebags. Where'd he get those, wondered Manar. We don't even own a horse. He's never even ridden one. And where does he think he's going. 

No noise came from the rooms bellow, or perhaps it was stifled by the dishtowels and bedclothes that lined the cupboard Manar used to watch his brother pack. I should ask him, he thought, but couldn't bring himself to do it. It's not like he really has anywhere to go. It's not like Da will pay for whatever it is he thinks he's gonna do. Or does he plan to tell them, or do they already know. Maybe I should ask Ma. 

She wouldn't know, he decided as his watched his brother. Niko had finished packing his clothes and was staring at himself in the tarnished old mirror that hung over his bed. He had that strange, dreamy look Da always scolded him over. It meant he was not washing dishes or wiping tables but riding winged horses to faraway lands. What's there to see, Niko, wondered Manar. No more than when you look at me. In twenty years we'll both look like Da. 

Short, black hair, curling over the ears, black eyes, plain features. Just like their father, just like their mother, and not too different from half the folks in the town. And he's forgot to shave again, thought Manar tiredly, but he'll not notice that. Or that Ma and Da mean best. He still thinks they hate him. If he just did his work like I do… it was a fight lost years before. Dreams meant more to Niko Vaksi than real life ever had. 

"He's our father, Niko!" 

"He's _your_ father. I'd bet anything he wishes he'd never had _me_." 

"Would you _listen_ to me?" 

"Sometimes, Manar, you sound just like him." 

"And you know _I_ don't hate you…" 

"Stop defending him!" 

"From what attack? You make no sense. He hates you because the inn is busy tonight and we need you to work a little?" 

"I'm _not_ lazy!" 

"I didn't _say_ you were! Listen, damn you! It's for you they do all this! For us both!" 

"But I'm not _like_ you, Manar." 

That's what it always came to, in the end. Niko would just go on and on about how Ma and Da didn't understand him, how they were hurting him by teaching him how to work for his living. He'll be thankful for that when he goes off somewhere dream-chasing. He'll probably forget to write. I'll probably never hear from him again. 

That's all that came from having an insane baby brother who, at sixteen, still hadn't gotten his head out of the clouds. It was worrysome; how would a boy like Niko ever get along in the real world? He wouldn't understand how well he had it until he got out in the world and saw that working folk had little patience for his fancies. Manar could only pray to every god he could think of that he'd come to his senses, before something bad happens. 

"Oh, brother, can't I talk you out of this silliness?" murmured Manar. 

Niko did not hear him. He was cloaked and bearing his used saddlebags, ready to leave. When he snuffed out the candle the shadows of false dawn hid him, and Manar could not even see him leave their bedroom, although he heard the soft thud of the door being carefuly shut, and the patter of lightly shoed feet passing him and going down the stairs. So this is how it ends, he thought. You watch him leave without so much as saying a word to him. 

No objections raised, no comments made. Nothing said to either father or mother. No last words passed between the brothers as the thread that linked them was all but severed -- not even goodbye. 


End file.
